


The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here

by sergeantsantiago



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff ensues, Pregnancy, amy finds out she's pregnant, and tells jake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 16:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13791708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sergeantsantiago/pseuds/sergeantsantiago
Summary: Amy gets sent home from work. She refuses to believe she's sick. It turns out she was right.





	The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Light" by Sleeping at Last

Amy’s going to kill her husband.

She knows - she  _ knows _ \- it’s his fault that Captain Holt sent her home. Jake’s been complaining non-stop about how much she’s been working since she was assigned a murder case nine days ago, and okay, she might be feeling a bit dizzy, but it’s definitely not bad enough to be sent home. She’s still perfectly capable of doing her job.

She closes the front door of the apartment with more strength than necessary - not quite a slam, but the sound it makes when it shuts behind her is loud enough for their neighbors to hear - and heads straight to the bedroom. Jake’s hoodie is lying on the bed, along with a bunch of other clothes that he put there that morning while looking for that one particular shirt he wanted to wear. She’d normally put everything away and later tell him, for the billionth time, to not leave his clothes  _ everywhere _ . But right now she can’t be bothered. The dizziness morphed into nausea and lying down has never seemed more appealing. Okay maybe she’s not feeling well at all. (Jake shouldn’t have talked to Holt, though. She’s still annoyed.)

She changes into her most comfortable pair of sweatpants and the first t-shirt she finds, and grabs his hoodie on her way out of the bedroom, leaving the heap of clothes on the bed for Jake to deal with whenever he comes home. The book she’s currently reading is still on the coffee table - forgotten there the previous night when Jake joined her on the couch and started pressing kisses on her shoulder, face, neck, anywhere he could reach to distract her (it worked) - so she picks it up before lying down, taking as much couch space as possible.

The change in position is enough to worsen her overall sickness so she sits back up almost immediately. It’s not bad enough to make her run to the bathroom, but it’s quite close. She stays like that, head down, hands gripping the cushions, until the nausea recedes and becomes nothing more than a small annoyance in her stomach. She can deal with that.

She lies down again, slower this time, but jumps up before her head hits the cushion.

She’s an idiot. No, she’s the biggest idiot in the entire universe. How did she miss this?

Her period is four days late.

_ Her period is four days late. _

Normally, it would mean nothing. It’s happened before, it might happen again. She’s been up to a week late. But when you’re actively trying to get pregnant it  _ does _ mean something.

She and Jake decided to start trying a couple of months ago and have so far been unsuccessful. Neither of them are really worried, though. They know people can try for  _ years _ and get nothing. A few months is nothing to worry about. This is something big, and they decided to take it easy (as easy as someone like Amy could take it). It will happen when it has to happen. That’s what Jake keeps saying.

Could that moment be now?

It would certainly explain the dizziness and nausea of the past couple of days. Amy Santiago does  _ not _ get sick, so she’d assumed it had something to do with only sleeping three hours a night since the murder case took over her life.

She rushes to the door, grabbing her purse on the way, and practically runs to the store in front of her building.

She ignores the weird look the cashier gives her when she places five pregnancy tests on the counter, and, before she has a chance to really think about what she’s doing, she’s back at the apartment and reading the instructions on one of the boxes.

She does exactly as it says, not fully processing what all this could mean until she finds herself waiting, timer set on her phone.

She could be pregnant.

There might be a human being growing inside her at this very moment.

It’s the longest three minutes of her life.

But, when her phone beeps signaling the time’s up, she can’t bring herself to look. It’s silly - the test can’t change anything, it’s merely informing - but her life might be about to change forever and just looking is proving to be too much.

She wants this, she’s done research and planned everything that could be planned. That doesn’t make her any less scared. She wishes she had waited for Jake to come home before taking the tests.

She checks the time on her phone. 2:34 p.m. Jake won’t be home for at least another four hours, and that is only if he finishes all his paperwork on time (she knows her husband well enough to be sure he won’t). 

She reaches for one of the tests without looking, hating that this little plastic stick holds what could probably be the answer to the most important question she’s ever had.

She’s scared to look but she  _ needs _ to know.

She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly and steadily.

The little plus sign is the first thing she notices when her eyes open.

She’s pregnant.

She and Jake are going to have a baby.

Her heart is pounding in her ears, and when she reaches for one of the other tests her hands are shaking so much she can barely make out the positive sign on it.

_ She’s pregnant _ .

She has to tell Jake.

She wipes a stray tear from her cheek and grabs her phone, stopping herself a millisecond before pressing the call button.

_ You can’t tell him over the phone, Amy _ .

So, instead, she sends him a quick text.

—

**_Can you come home straight from work? We need to talk._ **

—

She only realizes what that might sound like to him, especially since she was furious at him when she walked out of the precinct that morning, after she sends it. She’s typing a second text to try and explain, but his answer comes before she can even think of what she wants to say.

—

_ Is everything ok? R u ok? _

—

**_I’m fine, but there’s something we have to talk about. I’m just telling you in case you were planning to do something after work._ **

—

_ No plans after work when the wife’s sick. Gotta take care of u. _

—

**_I’m not sick._ **

—

It’s true, she isn’t. He’s probably just going to think that she’s denying feeling bad like she did that morning and the previous days. He’s going to roll his eyes and sigh at her stubbornness. 

She can’t wait for Jake to get home and to break the news to him.

* * *

She sits up straight when she hears the front door opening. It’s dark now, there’s no sunlight pouring in, only the faint glow of the streetlights below the windows. The TV is the only source of light, a rerun of a show Amy can’t quite place. She wasn’t watching. It’s been impossible for her to focus on anything other than the plastic stick on her pocket (the pocket of Jake’s hoodie so technically  _ his _ pocket). She’s been staring at it the better part of the afternoon. All this feels surreal.

“Hey,” Jake says after turning on the light and finding her in a cocoon of blankets on the couch, his face softening when his eyes meets hers.

“Hey,” she echoes, her voice soft.

“How are you feeling?” he asks after hanging his jacket next to her coat. He makes his way to the couch, sitting as close to her as the three blankets allow him. “You can’t be that cold. It’s September, Ames.”

She shugs. “I’m fine. I told you,  _ I’m not sick _ .”

“Okay,” he says slowly, not sounding one bit convinced. “What did you want to talk about? Are you still angry about this morning? You almost fainted, Amy, I wasn’t just gonna let you–”

“It’s not that,” she interrupts, trying and failing to fight a smile. “I don’t care about that.”

She watches as his expression changes from concern to surprise to puzzlement.

“Ames, what’s going on?” he asks, frowning.

“I have to show you something.”

He nods once, and she can  _ see _ his brain cells at work trying to figure out what this incredibly important thing could be.

He stares at her, frowning, as she reaches into the pocket, fishes the test out, and, without a word, places it in his hands.

He only looks away from her when he feels the weight of a foreign object, and his frown deepens the moment he lays his eyes on it.

“What’s th–” but before he can finish, a wave of realization washes over him.

He’s completely frozen for a solid minute, eyes fixed on the test he’s now holding as his life depended on it. His mouth is slightly open, and Amy can’t bring herself to look away from him. He’s never looked this adorable before.

When he finally looks up at her and away from the test his eyes are bright with unshed tears and so full of pure love and amazement and surprise that she can help but give a chuckle, tears she didn’t know were even there rolling freely down her cheeks.

“Are you– We’re gonna have a baby?” His voice cracks in the middle of the question, and she watches as a single tears runs down from the corner of his eye.

She nods, wiping her cheeks, he lips curling into an impossibly bigger smile. “Apparently.”

She’s suddenly in his arms, his face buried on her neck. Her arms find their way around him, pulling him as close to her as humanly possible. He’s crying openly now and so is she. He pulls away slightly, just enough to start pressing kisses on her neck, jaw, cheeks, nose - anywhere he can reach.

She starts laughing again, giggling like a little kid. Right now, in her living room, with her husband’s arms wrapped around her,  _ pregnant _ , she’s feeling so immensely  _ happy _ .

“Wait,” she hears him say and he pulls away completely, wiping his cheeks with one hand. “Are you sure we can trust this stick? Shouldn’t you go see a doctor?”

She moves closer to him, eliminating the space between them. One of her hands reaches for his face, wiping the remnants of tears that he missed; the other finds his, and squeezes it reassuringly.

“I took four other tests, they’re still in the bathroom. And I’ve already made a doctor’s appointment for tomorrow.”

He nods once, twice, three times, the smile on his face broadening each time. So-very-carefully he cups her face with his free hand, moving closer to her until their foreheads are touching.

“I love you  _ so much _ .” He punctuates his words with the softest kiss to her lips.

“I love you so much too.”

“We’re gonna have a baby,” he affirms, tears welling up in his eyes and rolling freely down his face just a moment later.

She nods slightly, not moving one inch away from him. “We’re gonna have a baby,” she repeats.

And to think that only that morning she was considering making him sleep on the couch.

**Author's Note:**

> I know absolutely nothing about pregancy related stuff, just go along with the inaccuracies.  
> Find me on tumblr at sergeant-santiago


End file.
